


The raid

by Nival_Vixen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Raid (Movies - Evans)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Police, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Character Death, Complete, Corruption, Drug Dealing, Explicit Language, F/M, M/M, Nogitsune Trauma, Police Officer Derek Hale, Poor Life Choices, Werewolf Derek, Wolf Pack, loosely based on movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 03:18:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1494592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nival_Vixen/pseuds/Nival_Vixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pack are sent into a drug lord's building to kill him, but the mission goes wrong very quickly. Separated from the rest of the pack, Derek ends up on the seventh floor of the apartment building, trying to get up to the fifteenth level to complete the pack's mission. A face from the past brings up complications, and the civilians of the apartment building seem to be far too well equipped to deal with werewolves than innocent and ignorant people should be.</p><p>Loosely based on The Raid: Redemption</p>
            </blockquote>





	The raid

**Author's Note:**

> Very loosely based on the Indonesian martial arts action movie 'The Raid: Redemption'.
> 
> Zbigniew is a Polish name pronounced 'Zbeeg-nyef' meaning 'to dispel anger', if you're interested.

There were fifteen levels of this building, and at a first glance it seemed that every apartment was filled with nothing but drug addicts, drug dealers, or something in between. However, there were also a few apartments occupied by innocent civilians, probably drawn to the building for the cheap rent and supposed protection of the drug lord that ran the building. The pack had been sent in to kill the drug lord and capture the criminals that were under his control. The drug lord - Deucalion - had two guards: Ennis and Zbigniew, the former who was known for killing victims with his bare hands, despite his werewolf status. Not much was known about the latter (there wasn't even a photo of him), apart from the fact that Zbigniew was the brains behind Deucalion's organisation. It was told that he could and would shoot anyone that crossed him, and others said that he couldn't be killed (some people speculated that there was something supernatural about him as well, but as of yet, no one had survived to tell that particular tale).

 

The pack were employed by the police (under Sheriff Parrish's guidance; not everyone knew that they weren't exactly human, and that's the way they wanted to keep it) and sent in for the missions that others wouldn't survive without the wolves' special abilities. So far, they had successfully completed every mission they'd been sent on. This one, it seemed, would be the first that they would fail. As Malia had already been killed on the sixth level, it was already failing spectacularly. Derek had been separated from the rest of the pack on their raid through the crack house. It had been an ambush from the start, with the spotter on the sixth level raising the alarm at the presence, even though Peter had killed the boy seconds later, it was a second too late.

 

Deucalion had cameras installed everywhere, and had informed his tenants that anyone who killed the pack (he called them an _infestation_ , but Derek took offence to that term, _thank you very much, you crack dealing motherfucker_ ) would be rewarded handsomely. Apparently, the prospect of living rent-free for the rest of their lives had turned these tenants into killers. Since then, most of the pack had dispersed across the apartment building's levels, trying to defend themselves while completing the mission at the same time. Scott, Allison and Peter were last seen fighting off the civilians on the fifth level (they were surprisingly well armed, but Derek had no other crack houses to base his comparison; _maybe these sorts of places came pre-installed with knives and guns?_ ); Isaac, Lydia, and Jackson were on the sixth floor; Ethan, Boyd, and Erica were on the seventh floor; and Aiden was guarding their already tied-up prisoners down on the first floor.

 

Derek and Kira had been on the eighth floor with Malia, and Kira was shot soon after Malia's heart stopped beating. Derek had made a hole in the floor of the apartment, escaping down to the seventh floor and fighting off the apartment's occupants before carrying Kira's limp form up through the building, attempting to find someone innocent to hide them. Derek's chest tightened at the thought of the kitsune dying - he'd grown fond of Kira over the years. She had been naive at the beginning, but her wit and research skills were second only to Stiles', and ever since his departure after the nogitsune incident six years ago, Kira had come to mean a lot to all of them. And now she was _dying_.

 

He was brought out of his musings by the sound of a gunshot, and Derek blinked his blood-stained eyes, looking to the closest apartment. Room 726. It smelled cleaner than the rest, so that would have to do. He heard the landing door open and hurried to knock on the door, begging in a hushed voice for the occupants to let him in. There was no reply, even though he could hear the heartbeat behind the door. **Fuck. He didn't have time for this.** Thankfully, jut as he was about to kick the door in - screw the attention it would bring - the door was opened and he was ushered inside.

 

"Quick, before you're seen. Hurry, hurry," the man muttered, shoving him towards the back of his apartment and to a hidden compartment in a false wall.

 

Derek helped Kira along the best he could, practically dragging her into the small space with him. He took a moment to be thankful that Isaac wasn't with him - he wouldn't have been able to handle this space at all, not that Derek could blame him for that - and then the wall was closed behind him. Kira sat on the floor, leaning back against his legs as Derek stood with his claws out and ready to kill anyone that found them, no matter how small the space was to manoeuvre. Luckily, the woman that knocked on the apartment door was one of Decualion's human thugs, otherwise they would have been found in a heartbeat.

 

"You wouldn't happen to know where those two people are, would you?" the woman asked.

 

"Which two people?"

 

"The ones that have left a string of bodies in their wake," she snarled.

 

"Oh. No, I don't know where they are."

 

"Are you lying to me? 'Cause I tend to lose my head when people lie to me."

 

"Not lying." The man's voice sounded choked up, as if a hand was pressing around his throat tightly.

 

Derek breathed deeply and forced himself to stay where he was. It wouldn't do anyone any good if he burst out now. There was a thud, a hiss of pain, and then the apartment door slammed shut. Derek didn't dare move until the wall was opened once more, and then when he was certain the coast was clear, he helped Kira stand and moved her out to the man's couch. He had to get the bullet out of her and dress the wound, and then he would go make these motherfuckers pay for what they'd done to her and to Malia.

 

When the bullet was dug out of Kira's abdomen and she was adequately patched up, Derek left her in Matt's care, and headed back into the body-littered landing to try to complete the mission. One spectacular fight scene later, Derek was stumbling along the ninth floor with a wolfsbane bullet embedded in his shoulder. These people weren't meant to know about werewolves, much less be armed against them. Vaguely, his mind already fuzzy from the poison, Derek hoped that the others were all right. He was pulled into an apartment abruptly, and he feebly tried to fight against his assailant. The fight he put up was kind of pathetic, especially considering he had just torn a man to pieces only mere minutes ago.

 

" _What the fuck are you doing here?_ "

 

The voice was familiar, and he blinked hazily, trying to clear his head so he could see. He hadn't wanted to believe it when he'd seen the name up on the police board, but now that he could breathe, hear, see properly in this moment, Derek knew that his fears had been correct. Zbigniew was standing before him. Zbigniew 'Stiles' Stilinski. His last thought was of John Stilinski, and how he was glad that he would never know what Stiles had become, and then he collapsed, weak from the wolfsbane bullet.

 

...

 

Derek came to with a roar of pain, wolfsbane ash already set alight and pushed into his bullet wound. Stiles shoved a rag into Derek's mouth to stifle his noise, glaring at him and silently telling him to shut the fuck up. He bit down on the rag, clenching his teeth tightly and redirecting his thoughts away from the pain. It wasn't as bad as it could have been, and as his body began to heal once more, Derek spat the rag out.

 

Stiles didn't say anything, he just turned back to his kitchen table and cleared up the mess of wolfsbane ash, bullet casings, and matches. Derek looked at him with a frown, trying to match up the boy he remembered from Beacon Hills to the man before him. If it wasn't for the fact that he looked so unique - and his clothing style hadn't changed over the years - Derek probably wouldn't have recognised him if he'd been human. His wolf knew exactly who Stiles was, though, and what he smelled like, and there was no way he was wrong.

 

"Really, Stiles? A crack house?" Derek asked, his breathing heavy and his numerous wounds just starting to close from the beating he'd taken before he'd been shot with wolfsbane.

 

"At least I know it's human. No chance of being possessed by a nogitsune and killing everyone I love in this place," Stiles replied with a shrug.

 

"Yeah, just more chance of someone in here going insane and trying to kill you," Derek muttered.

 

Stiles snorted. "Not likely. I might be involved in a bad thing, but I am good at it, and no one here's got a chance of killing me. If you and the rest of the pack couldn't, what makes you think a bunch of humans with their stupid weapons would succeed?"

 

"You can stop bullets now?" Derek sneered.

 

Stiles didn't reply for a long and awkward moment. "You have to get out of here, Derek. It's not safe for you to be here. I can get you..."

 

"No. I'm not leaving without the rest of the pack," Derek replied firmly, standing up now that his wounds had closed over completely. A lot of his flesh was still red-raw, but there were no more gaping wounds, so he would survive.

 

"At least change your clothes before you go back out there," Stiles murmured, looking at him intently.

 

Derek looked down at his uniform, BHPD insignia emblazoned on his shoulder, the shirt torn and ripped from knives and guns, blood splattered from both his own and others' bodies, and then looked up at Stiles. He knew that this was more than just clothing, and he reluctantly shook his head. "It fits."

 

Stiles shrugged. "All right. At least wait until the coast is clear before you go back out there."

 

At that, Derek nodded. "Fuck, I didn't want to believe it was you when I saw your name up on the board," he admitted in a rush of air. "I can't believe I'm the only one that knows your actual name."

 

Stiles shook his head. "I still can't believe I let you live after you found out," he said, grinning wryly.

 

"Yeah, you really should've taken out all witnesses to that, Zbigniew," Derek said, eyebrow raised slightly.

 

"There's power in people's names, y'know. The nogitsune figured the knowledge would've gone with Dad to his grave, it didn't think you'd be around to hear it too."

 

Derek just nodded - there wasn't much he could say in response to that. He kept an ear out for other people on the level - some sort of fight was occurring a few rooms down, but he was still too weak from the wolfsbane to do anything about it right then.

 

"I'll head out now. Try not to get yourself killed, Derek. I kind of like knowing there's someone out there who knows how to pronounce my name properly," Stiles said with a wry smirk as he slipped out of the apartment.

 

Derek listened out for heartbeats to ensure that he could leave safely, looking around the apartment when he heard another heartbeat on the landing that wasn't Stiles' one. There wasn't much to see, really, and if it wasn't for the books on druidic magic that were scattered across the room, Derek might've said that it wasn't even Stiles' apartment. He was used to posters, strings, a mess of clothes, paper and books, and this... Well, this wasn't what he expected of the Stiles he knew. The Stiles he thought he knew, at least.

 

The heartbeat stopped near Stiles, and Derek opened the door a crack to see Ennis by the elevator, dragging a body behind him. **Scott's body.** _Scott's body without a heartbeat_ , Derek realised suddenly, even as his eyes flashed Alpha red with the succession of power being passed on. He was tempted to run out to help his Alpha, to tear Ennis apart limb by limb for what he'd done, but Derek couldn't. A line of mountain ash was at the door, which hadn't been there a moment ago (he would swear by that), and he bit back the growl when he saw Stiles' hand clenched and the brief tightening of his jaw as he concentrated on keeping Derek back. Ennis dragged Scott into the elevator when it arrived and Stiles followed him inside. When the doors were closed, the line of mountain ash disappeared, and Derek almost fell out of the apartment in his rage. He let out a howl that reverberated through the buildings, one that was echoed weakly by the Betas who were still alive, or uninjured enough to do so.

 

Stiles' apartment was on the sixth floor, and Derek tore his way through levels seven to ten, the Alpha's power surging through him. On the eleventh floor he met with Allison and Peter, and instructed them to head up to the fifteenth floor. Allison's face had turned into a mask, the likes of which Derek had never seen on her before, and he knew that once this was over she would be inconsolable, but until then, she would fight until Deucalion and Ennis paid for what they'd done. He gave a feral grin, feeling the exact same way. Peter and Allison headed upstairs quickly, Allison's crossbow ready and Peter's claws elongated.

 

Derek went to follow, but stopped suddenly on hearing a cry of pain. He frowned, recognising the voice as Stiles', and that he was nearby. Making his way towards the windowed door, Derek growled low in his throat when he saw that Stiles was chained up to the ceiling and Ennis was beating the crap out of him. He leaped into the room without a second thought, snarling and ripping Ennis away from Stiles' body. He snarled and pulled the chain down so Stiles could sit up properly. His hand had been stabbed, and Derek looked at him to see if Stiles was okay. He seemed to be angry more than anything, and Derek rewrapped his hand with the bandage that had been loosely applied to it, before helping Stiles stand up. Ennis waited until they were both standing before moving to attack, and Derek immediately spun so his knee was connecting with the larger man's solar plexus. Stiles had a knife in his hand, though Derek had no idea where it came from, and stabbed Ennis with it sharply, the sickly scent of wolfsbane filling the air. Derek ignored the smell the best he could, thankful that he hadn't pissed Stiles off, and continued to attack Ennis.

 

Ennis fought back with everything he had, his claws, teeth, and feet, every limb and appendage working to cause the maximum amount of damage to them. Even with the two of them, it still took a good ten minutes before they could bring Ennis down, punches, kicks, elbows and knees working to bring him down. It wasn't until Stiles' dagger was embedded in the side of his neck and dragged across until his throat was torn open completely that Ennis actually died (he fought for a good minute with the knife sticking out of his neck, as if it was nothing, until Stiles had finished it off after Derek brought him down to his knees). Derek worked it in a bit further until his head came off completely, not wanting to rely on the fact that he had been killed with a knife coated with wolfsbane. Sometimes these things didn't work the way they should.

 

"I tried to stop Decualion and he didn't like that," Stiles said when Derek finally turned to look at him. "Peter is the one that set you up; it seems he was promised the power of an Alpha if he did all of this. Deucalion's not going to give it to him, though. Not when he knows that Peter can't be trusted," Stiles said, shaking his head.

 

Derek didn't hear a single stutter of his heartbeat, and even without that, he knew that what Stiles had said was the truth. Peter had been twitchy on the journey here, and Derek should have brought it to his Alpha's attention when he still had an Alpha to turn to. He took a deep breath and nodded, thanking Stiles quietly. Then he stood and headed up to the fifteenth floor. Stiles hurried after him, gripping his wolfsbane coated knife tightly.

 

Allison was hiding behind the stairs on the fourteenth floor. Peter had a gun to Deucalion's head and was admitting to everything Stiles had just told Derek. Allison looked ready to kill Peter for betraying them - and ultimately killing Scott - and Derek wasn't going to get in her way of that. When Peter realised he wouldn't be getting the Alpha's powers, as promised, he shoved Deucalion down to the ground and shot him in the head. The wolfsbane bullet embedded itself in Deucalion's brain, and he fell down the stairs, stone cold dead. Peter then put the gun to his chin, pointing up towards his brain and pulled the trigger. The gun clicked and he pulled the trigger again, again, again. He'd run out of bullets. Realisation spread across his face, as did pure fear at the sight of a human woman with a crossbow, and Peter tried to stand up and run, but then Allison shot him. The arrow had been tipped in a paralytic poison courtesy of Deaton's Kanima venom supply, and Peter fell back, eyes blinking and fear still lacing his expression.

 

"Will you kill him?" Derek asked Allison.

 

She shook her head, jaw set firmly. "No; that motherfucker has a way of coming back to life every time he's killed. I think I'd like to do some permanent damage though. A cell made out of moonstone for the rest of his natural born life should suffice. For now."

 

"Come on, I can get you out of here," Stiles said, heading up to the fifteenth floor.

 

Allison looked between Stiles and Derek, but didn't ask how Stiles came to be in a drug lord's building, and he didn't offer to tell her.

 

A few minutes later, Stiles' voice came through the intercom that thread its way through the building. "All tenants return to your apartments. It's finished; it's over now."

 

Peter was put in cuffs made from mountain ash, and kept in the elevator as Derek and Allison made their way back down through the building, stopping on every level to see who was still alive out of their pack. Stiles went with them, ordering repairs to be done on the holes in the sides of the building and the dead to be removed by the civilians who hadn't yet returned to their apartments or had none to return to.

 

Scott, Malia, and Aiden had been killed, and Erica and Isaac both had wolfsbane poisoning, but everyone else seemed to be okay - basic injuries notwithstanding. There were still guards outside, and they were escorted out of the building and towards the gate by Stiles, who walked a little taller and with more confidence than anyone else had seen him have before.

 

"Hey! Open the gates!" Stiles called, unable to stop the small grin that appeared when his instruction was followed without hesitation.

 

"You could come with us, Zbigniew," Derek offered quietly after the others went ahead.

 

Stiles shook his head. "I can keep you safe in my world, Derek. Can you say the same about me in yours?"

 

Derek knew that he couldn't, but he couldn't admit it aloud. "Why?" he asked instead.

 

Stiles seemed to understand and came to a stop, smiling briefly. "For the same reason you didn't change out of your uniform: it fits."

 

Derek nodded and started walking towards the gate once more. Behind him, Stiles turned his back and walked away, and by the time Derek stepped out of the gate, Stiles was no longer in sight. The gate closed behind him firmly, and Derek couldn't bring himself to look back. He was of two minds in that moment: one hoping that this wouldn't be the last time he saw Stiles, and the other hoping it would be. If there was a next time, Derek had no idea if either of them would survive it.

...

The end.

Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> This works on the presumption that Stiles refused to be called Zbigniew after his mother's death, and the McCall's moved to Beacon Hills after Claudia's death, so Scott has only ever known him as Stiles, which is why the name rang no bells for him when it was put on the police board.
> 
> Derek was there when the Sheriff died at the nogitsune's hand and heard him call Stiles by his real name.


End file.
